


Ma Kent and the Running of a Time Travelling Base

by Omegarose



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, F/M, M/M, SuperFam, Time Travel, batfam, but you know, i don't have anything else written as of right now, i love me my batfam, knowing me im going to add a crapton of batfam, like the spn kind, ma kent is a badass woman who dont take no shit, mostly batfam, pa kent is gonna support his wife, shes also kinda a hunter, superwonderbat maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omegarose/pseuds/Omegarose
Summary: I was inspired by some really good time travel fic of Ma Kent on tumblr (it was shorter, and with a lot less "permanence" as in nobody remembers that someone showed up in the past) and it got me thinking. Ma Kent is a fully grown badass and I'm just very grateful she's so good at it.





	1. Robin (Tim)

Martha Kent had created quite a name for herself in the vigilante community.

Not really the ones that were around in the present. She and her husband liked their little farm and sleepy town just fine without superheroes crashing in every few days or so--not including, of course, their son, their grandchildren, and their occasional guests.

No, Martha Kent’s real name came from the time travellers.

It became a mantra of sorts. “If you get sent anywhere in time, seek out Smallville. If it isn’t there yet, go to 38.19 N 100.13 W. You’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it.” Vigilantes murmured it to one another when it seemed magic could be involved, and yelled the coordinates across battlefields as sci-fi lasers began to fly, and mentioned it to every newbie that made an appearance. 

No one but those who actually needed them actually sought out the location for themselves, not after it had been vetted by some of the oldest and most experienced heroes. No one who needed them spoke of what they had seen there, because there was very little reason to other than to repeat the information everyone had heard a hundred times before. “38.19 N 100.13 W.”

~~~~~

When Martha and Jonathan Kent began to look into buying an old farmhouse and maybe a couple fields if they could afford it in the tail end of the seventies, they weren’t expecting to settle where they did. 

For one, the house was not nearly as derelict as Martha had expected it to be, nor were the chicken coop and garden shed. For another, there was a fully functional barn that only needed a few new boards and a fresh coat of paint before a couple of cows could be moved in. And the fields that it came with! Not that she didn’t want a large farm, but the three fields, the pasture, and the half-acre of yard space around the house seemed a bit much for their budget.

“What’s the catch?” Jonathan had joked with the land owner, who had inherited it after his father passed.

“I haven’t the faintest,” admitted the man. “My father had a might bit of trouble renting this place out after he bought it on auction back in ‘38. Lots of loonies come through here, and Dad was never quite able to find a buyer, and could only keep renters for a few years on average, if that.”

Jonathan sent an appraising eye over the full view of the property. “Well, we might be just the people to get it off your hands. What’a’ya think, Martha?”

“Hm,” she hummed, non committedly. The property was strange, and the last thing they needed after the debacle in Los Angeles was strange. One demon-infested apartment building was all the excitement she needed in the next few decades, if she had anything to say about it. Of course her husband, having only been her fiance at the time and living with a couple roommates a few blocks over, was none-the-wiser of the situation. She had thought it would have startled him too much, or that he wouldn’t have fully believed her.

“Well, feel free to stop by the property a few more times this weekend to get a feel for the land. The house and barn will be locked up, of course, but you two are welcome everywhere else for the time being,” offered the owner.

“That’s a great idea. What do you think of a walk and a picnic by that creek tomorrow, Martha?”

“That sounds great,” she said, only partially lying. 

A nice day out in the countryside  _ would _ be nice, after staying in Jonathan’s busted-up old junker’s backseat in search of properties for sale, or camping in the middle of nowhere in a ramshackle tent. Ever since the highs of her youth had passed, camping under the stars down an unfamiliar high road or sleeping in the car had really lost their appeal.

“I’ll be in my office on Monday morning,” said the man. “Give me a call about how you’re feeling then.”

~~~~~

Saturday morning started alright enough. It had been a beautiful night, which meant a sky full of stars and no cramped backseat as rain forced them in, and they were both well rested. Jonathan had found a proper deli and made sandwiches, while Martha scrounged the corner store for some fresh-made donuts.

The fields were a bit overgrown but promising. In their walk they saw a fawn nestled in a small grove of trees, and while darling, they quickly moved on as not to distress the mother who undoubtedly was nearby. There were wildflowers, and fresh air, and a nice breeze. The day was warm enough for the creek to be refreshing when they decided to go wading.

And then the future-man appeared.

Well, future-boy would be more accurate. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen.

He came from the direction of the farmhouse, with an insane outfit that consisted of a red body-suit; black boots and gloves; a heavy-duty yellow belt and detailing at the front; a black domino-mask with white lenses over the eyes, like a horror-movie version of a masquerade costume; a black cape with a yellow underbelly; and, most bizarrely, what looked like black briefs over the pants.

“Who are you,” Martha demanded. Despite being knee-deep in a creek and at a decline compared to the boy, she held herself confidently. The small handgun she always had tucked in her waistband finding its way to her hands certainly helped with that.

Jonathan fell with a squawk into the water as he saw a) her gun and b) the boy she was aiming at.

“I’m Robin,” the boy answered, hands held up in surrender. “I’m here for what’s under the shed.”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. “And what on Earth would that be?”

“Uh- _ fuck _ , am I really the first one to catch them unaware?” he muttered.

“Stop with that mumbling, boy, and  _ tell me what you’re here for _ .”

The boy seemed to be having an internal struggle before he sighed. “Fuck it.”

She shifted the gun to indicate her impatience.

“I’m from the future. This farm has been an exit point  _ back _ to the future for as long as we have documented history of it. Course, all these records only exist in my time, everything aside from a few weird things have been erased from the here-and-past. For as long as I’ve been in the hero-ing business this is the place the heroes have been told to go if they’re ever lost in time. It’s not the only way to get back, but it’s the easiest.”

Jonathan, drenched and now standing slightly behind Martha, scoffed. “Likely story, kid. Look, take off the mask and we’ll drive you into town to sober up a-”

“Prove it,” Martha said.

Jonathan gaped. “ _ Martha! _ ”

The boy--”Robin”--grinned. “Of course.”

Jonathan fretted the entire way to the house, but Martha and Robin ignored him. She was intently listen to him ramble on, gun held much more loosely and with the safety on in her hand.

“It’s always been here, and I once got sent back to 1843 and managed to get back, so it’s not like I really need your help with any of this. I just heard voices from down by the creek and thought I’d check in with you so I wouldn’t have to break and enter. I like you, well, future-you, so I didn’t mean no disrespect and I honestly expected you to have already known about this so it’s not fully my fault for being a bit messed up and letting the time-traveler business slip…”

“How old are you?” Martha suddenly interrupted, midst a scattered recollection of the “alien robots” he had encountered that got him sent from the future.

“Oh-I’m...probably not supposed to say. My…mentor will probably be upset…”

“Just answer the question, kiddo.”

“Fourteen.”

“There’s a lot of kid’s fighting from when you’re from?”

“Kind of? Look, usually us younger heroes are in teams, under the supervision of a couple of adults or with our own mentors, it’s not like-”

“You say getting sent back isn’t all too uncommon?”

Robin hesitated. “Well...no, not really.”

Martha nodded, making up her mind just as they arrived back at the house, with the shed pushed far back at the edge of the yard.

The shed was nondescript, hardly big enough for a wheelbarrow and a lawnmower to fit inside comfortably. The padlock on the door was attached to rotting wood, so it wasn’t hard in the slightest to pull it away.

Jonathan held back while Martha followed Robin in.

Nothing seemed wrong inside, per say, but the temperature was slightly too cool and the dirt floor was disturbed at the back.

“How does this work?” she asked.

“Here-” Robin knelt down without fear of the gun she still held at his back, brushing aside dirt to reveal an old blanket. He pulled it aside dislodging a solid layer of dirt. A metal sheet was lifted at it’s hinge, revealing something that was  _ definitely  _ from the future with the amount of blinking lights, lack of actual buttons, and glowy-ness. 

“I just gotta press a hand there-” he indicated a smooth glow-y bit, “and it’ll read my molecules and alert the people who can pull me back to when I belong, to tell them I’m in a position for an extraction.”

“Go ahead, then.”

~~~~~

“Gone? Just like that?” Jonathan demanded.

Martha shrugged. “Just like he said. However that machine in their works I don’t know, but it did whatever he expected him to and he vanished right before my eyes.”

“How are you so calm!?” His voice rose shrilly at the end. Martha sighed.

“Calm down, John. This is...actually, no, sorry, I was going to say this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen but it definitly is.”

He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to argue, but she put up her hand to cut him off.

“But not by much. Remember that vampire in Oregon?”

“I-he- _ he wasn’t a real vampire _ ,” Jonathan insisted.

Martha had to disagree. Supernatural things seemed to be drawn to her. Jonathan and her had been married for going on two years now, and dating for three before that, but he hadn’t seen nearly as much as she had. Things that couldn’t be anything but vampires, and werewolves, and ghosts, and demons. She wasn’t lying when she said that time travelling boys weren’t that far of a stretch.

“We can’t buy this property.”

“I thought you liked it?” Martha asked innocently, acting baffled by his declaration.

“ _ Martha _ ,” he admonished.

“Jonathan,” she challenged.

He (slightly hysterically) attempted to stare her down. Attempted is the key word, as he had never managed to win a staring contest even when retaining all his sense.

With an agitated exhale he threw up his hands, turning to pace a few feet. “ _ Martha _ ,” he pleaded.

“It comes with three fields, a pasture, a barn--and it’s surrounded by a state-protected forest on three sides, with the closest neighbors owning so much property across the way that their buildings are all more than a mile away. It’s exactly the type of place we’ve been looking for. For really, really cheap.”

“We weren’t looking for-for-for  _ time travelers _ !”

Martha gave him a look that never failed to convince men to give into her. It worked on her brother, her father, professors, cops, boyfriends and anyone in-between.

“But-but-”

“Jonathan, I’ll handle it if it ever does come up again. Trust me.”

He struggled to protest, though he had seemingly suddenly lost his tongue. After a few minutes of floundering he buried his face in his hands and mumbled, “You’re crazy.”

“I know, dear,” Martha positively beamed.

She hoped that the distance from other people would at least allow her the leeway she needed if any sort of occult thing showed up. It wasn’t so bad that the list of occult things just had “time travelers” added to it.


	2. Wonder Woman

It was three months before someone else showed up needing to use their shed.

Being mid-August when they bought the land, there had been no time for any crops. Instead Martha and Jonathan Kent focused on fixing up the farmhouse, chicken coop, barn, and the places where the fence had broken down. They had a pair of dairy cows out in the pasture, and a beat-up old tractor for next year’s spring safe in the barn.

Jonathan had tried to ignore the shed, the strange device within, and the future-boy. It was wishful thinking--he hadn’t grown up like Martha had, taught to be aware of what was going on around her so no one or no  _ thing  _ could get the jump on her.

The past months had been quiet, though. Not a shifters or vampires or demons in sight. Not even as much as a common vengeful spirit. Still, she always paid attention. Who knew what the future-people would be like. Just because the boy had been kind didn’t mean that the rest would.

“Martha!” Jonathan yelled one day while Martha was working to clear out the plot where her vegetable garden would be. He sounded anxious and panicked. Martha shot to her feet and went to him running.

Her husband was by the porch, blue paint splattered over his jeans and painting shirt. He was staring off at the pasture, where Clover and Chrysanthemum grazed. There was a woman in the pasture, petting the cows on their velvety noses.

The woman was tall, with sun-darkened skin and waves of black hair that fell about her shoulders. She was beautiful, too, in a way that had Martha catching her breath. Long, muscled legs that were left mostly bare; a shapely figure covered in what Martha could only describe as ancient-style leather armor; gold glinting at her wrists and hanging from her hip and in her hair like a crown and in the form of a sword slung across her back.

Chrysanthemum head-butted the woman when she focused her attention on Clover. She did not stumble, or fall. She just laughed and pushed her back.

“Is she another...uh, guest?” Jonathan asked.

“Probably.”

The woman seemed to notice the two of them, then, turning away from the cows with a wide smile and a wave. Jonathan waved back meekly, Martha kept a hand on the gun tucked into her waistband.

With a few more pats to the cows, the woman extracted herself and made her way towards the Kents. When she encountered the cattle fence, she planted one hand at the top and effortlessly swung herself over.

“Greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Kent,” she said politely. There was something to her accent that was exotic but familiar all at once. Something stately, and elegant, almost Shakespearean--without the British accent.

“...hello,” Martha returned. “You here for the shed?”

The woman smiled, soft in a way that didn’t match the muscles or armor. “That is correct, I seemed to have found myself in the wrong time.”

Martha hummed. Jonathan edged a bit closer to her. The woman seemed all the more imposing the closer she got, though the genuine smile never slipped.

Martha didn’t know what possessed her to ask, not when so little was known about the stranger and she had no protection but the handgun in her waistband close at hand, but she asked, “Want anything to drink?”

“Something to quench my thirst would not be unwelcome.”

“John, would you get the pitcher and some glasses.”

Jonathan returned quickly with the breakfast-in-bed tray that was used more often to have somewhere to set their snacks that wasn’t the dirty ground. Martha poured them all the lemonade and sat on the steps, the woman sitting on the grassy front lawn. John sat next to Martha, nervously not taking a sip.

Martha was at ease--or, as much at ease as she could be in the presence of a stranger. They spoke of the cow, and the renovations to the rest of the farm. It didn’t take long for the women to stand, and excuse herself.

“I must be going. Thank you for the beverage, and your time.” She paused, sending an appraising look towards the barn. “And if you want my advice, you should paint the barn bright green. More distinctive.”

Martha followed her to the back, and watched her go into the shed and for everything to light up, just as it had with the future-boy.

It was late at night when she managed to put her finger on how she had relaxed in front of the strange woman. She reminded Martha of the others she knew who hunted down the monsters and ghosts that hide in the night. Dangerous, yes, but ultimately with the goal of protecting others in mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly should probably ask for recommendation. Like, I have a few ideas for what I want to do, I just have some difficulty finding the motivation to actually write it unless other people show interest. (Part of the reason this chapter took so long to come out). I work best with the batfam, but other Justice League members probably wouldn't be too bad, and I definitely can work with the usual sidekicks.


	3. Robin (Dick) and Kid Flash

The third traveler to come to the Kent farm came in the night. They didn’t say anything to let Martha and Jonathan know he was there. They only realized when the shed lit up and startled Jonathan when he was up to use the bathroom, and when Martha went to check on it the next morning she found a boot track in the dirt.

~~~~

The fourth visitor came almost six months later, when the corn was shoulder height and the sun baked down on the earth.

There was a pair, for the first time. A set of barely-teenage boys, one in yellow and orange and the other in red-and-green-and-yellow, legs left bare for some unfathomable reason and a black cape hanging behind him. The first boy swayed on his feet, and both of them were clearly flushed.

“John, dear, could you make up a plate of cookies and some lemonade,” she called to her husband who was closer to the house.

“We need to get going-” the second boy began hesitantly.

“Rob. Food. I’m ‘bout to pass out,” the first boy cut in.

The second boy still didn’t seem sure, looking to the shed and then to the porch where Jonathan stood with the pitcher and the cookie jar filled with the corner store’s weekly leftovers.

“The shed will still be there in fifteen minutes, kid. And while I’m not quite sure how all this time travelling works, I’m pretty sure they can manage without you for a bit longer.”

The second boy let the first take the lead despite looking to be the older of the two and clearly being the one with a higher need for the food.

“I...suppose it can’t hurt too much.”

Martha smiled and ushered them to the porch, setting them both up with the snacks, sending Jonathan in to make sandwiches after seeing how quickly the cookies were inhaled by the boy in yellow.

“What’re your names?” she asked them.

“Robin,” said the second boy. He didn’t look like the other boy that called himself Robin, but the costume looked similar enough.

“Kid Flash,” said the other, through a mouthful of cookie.

“Martha Kent,” she introduced.

  
“We know,” Robin said. “Almost all guests you get will probably know.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you’re kinda famous.”

Of all things to be famous for, to be famous in the future was probably for the best. Better than being famous within her father’s business with tracking down and minimizing the potential threat of the occult. Probably less dangerous, definitely more settled. All she had to do was keep living on this farm.

**Author's Note:**

> The Robin is Tim, if that wasn't clear enough.


End file.
